


Love you til the End

by Strudelmugel



Series: Peace and Love [5]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cancer, Hospitals, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, OC Parent - Freeform, Taxidermy, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 03:02:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17398784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strudelmugel/pseuds/Strudelmugel
Summary: No one said their marriage would work. Everyone who knew João and Alin were convinced it would end in divorce, but the reason they'd married after a week was because they were certain it wouldn't.





	Love you til the End

**Author's Note:**

> João - Portugal  
> Alin - Romania  
> Dr Vynnychenko - Ukraine  
> Tsvetan - Bulgaria  
> Andrei - Moldova  
> Iacob - parent oc, belonging to tikolanesla
> 
> ...
> 
> Hi there, long time no see, i guess. I've been working on this for ages now, and it just kept getting longer and longer. At least now it's done, I can work on something else.  
> I'm pretty proud of this, though, and excited to finally share it with everyone! Or the 5 people interested in reading a RoPort, I guess.  
> Anyway, this is the 5th fic in a series of mine, inspired by Pogues songs. This one, obviously, is based off of 'love you til the end'. This one is standalone, and not tied-in with any other fics. Hope you enjoy it!

[](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x5kCqkQjAZk)__"I just want to see you  
When you're all alone  
I just want to catch you if I can  
I just want to be there  
When the morning light explodes  
On your face it radiates  
I can't escape  
I love you 'till the end..."

* * *

 

“I, João Guilherme Pinto do Nascimento Pessoa, promise to love and cherish you forevermore. I promise to light up your life in any way that I can, be there for you, and support you in all you desire. I will never leave your side; I will be your rock, for you are my true love. I love you, and I will never stop proving it to you and myself. I promise to love you ‘til-“

The words caught in his throat. A pair of sharp, clever eyes held his gaze and slender fingers squeezed at his hands.

He could do this, for his groom.

“’Til death do us part.”

 

* * *

“The marriage won’t be recognised when we get home,” he remembered Alin commenting. “Hell, I don’t even think my friends will either, but for – you know – different reasons.”

He remembered everything about that moment, the way the Spanish sun had filtered through the cracks in the curtains to set them aflame as they held each other in Alin’s hotel room. Tomorrow, they’d be on their way to the airport, and João wouldn’t see his husband for a month.

João had simply tucked a lock of Alin’s hair behind his pointy little ear and kissed him deeply. “It doesn’t matter,” he had replied, “surely any fool, upon seeing us, will recognise love.” His fingers were still tangled in Alin’s hair, beautiful silk that washed over his skin.

Alin smiled against his lips. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you to the stars and back my dear,” João whispered.

After a moment, Alin gave a huff. “My family aren’t going to believe I got married. I’ve only been gone a week.”

“I’ll be with you soon,” João kissed his nose, “then I can meet your loved ones and prove I truly care for you. Because I do.”

“I’ve never doubted it in all the time we’ve known each other.”

João had to laugh.

 

* * *

“João Guilherme Pinto do Nascimento Pessoa, I fucking swear-“

“João Guilherme Pinto do Nascimento Pessoa-Radacanu, my dear. Don’t you leave out his beautiful surname-“

“That’s not the point! Or is, it is the point! You’ve known him a week and you married the man?!”

Antonio looked like he was wasn’t sure whether to explode or implode. He settled for pacing the kitchen and making gestures like it was paining him to not wring João’s neck. João, for his part, just leaned against the counter, watching his brother get it out of his system.

“What were you thinking, you fool? You should wait a month at the very minimum before marrying a person you just met!” 

Only when compared to João could a man who would marry someone within a month of meeting them be considered the less stupidly – hopelessly - romantic one, but even Antonio had to admit João went too far whenever he fell for someone. The man wore his heart on his sleeve and his dick dangling out of his trousers, and had had many a relationship fail after he’d proposed a little too soon. Whether it was five minutes, or he’d managed to last a whole three days before popping out mamá’s – God rest her soul - engagement ring, it was always too soon. You’d think that ring was carrying a curse, the way João seemed to determined to get rid of it.

If he was lucky, he’d be politely and awkwardly turned down, but – on more than one occasion – he’d gotten a flute of champagne in the face and a slap.

And now, be some sheer-miracle-come-cruel-twist-of-fate, the fool had actually found someone as passionate (senseless), as he was.

“Do you know anything about this Alin person?” he cried, “do you even know his last name?”

“Of course! Radacanu. You… tend to use full names at a wedding, Toni.”

“I'll give you that, fine, but what else? You can’t know everything you need to know about someone after just a few days!”

João gave himself a moment to compile a list. “His name is Alin Radacanu, as I’ve mentioned. He’s 24; he runs a cryptid sighting blog and travels across the world looking for them himself, when he has the money; in his spare time, he collects tarot cards and is a Sagittarius. He both reads and writes romantic poetry, and loves fairy stories, oh, and claims to host the best Eurovision parties.”

Antonio had to sigh; “he really is your perfect guy, I’ll give you that.”

“And he’s also really into BDSM.”

“Be that as it may,” Antonio had to wonder – not for the first time – why he hadn’t just eaten João in the womb, “don’t you think you could’ve given yourself more time to really get to know him and see what it would be like spending time with him on a day-to-day basis?”

João raised an eyebrow. “Why would I do that? I love him! I know I want to be with him, and we truly have no time to waste.” Now it was his turn to pace, anything to not think about how Alin was currently on the other side of Europe. “We had a week together, a magical, wonderful week, and that was enough. Even this month I need to plan my moving to Romania will be hell.” He clasped Antonio’s hands in his, “I need to be with him. I need to feel his flesh on my own-“

“Yes, I know!” Antonio tore his hands away. “I got your letter. All ten explicit, horrifying pages.” Truth be told, he’d stopped reading after the first paragraph due to nausea and proceeded to burn the entire thing, but João didn’t need to know that.

“So, you understand that I need to do this?”

“Still no. I don’t understand this at all. How can you know he’s worth moving all the way to Romania? Living the rest of your life with some man you just met?”

“It won’t be the rest of my life,” said João quietly.

Antonio raised an eyebrow. “I mean, yeah, I suspect that the marriage will fail within a few months, maybe a year if you’re lucky, but-“

“Toni, he has three years to live.”

 

* * *

They’d first met by the poolside. João knew he was special from the moment he clapped eyes on the weirdo in the bat print Victorian-style bathing suit and parasol. He swaggered into view, surveying the horrified holidaymakers with glee as he decided on a place to sit.

To João’s utter delight, the strange stranger came over and sat right next to him.

“You know,” he began, sprawled out on the sun lounger, “if I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put your dick in my arse.”

João was in love.

The guy was even cuter up close, with a heavy lisp and dream-catcher earrings the size of his head. His honey-coloured hair was pulled into a messy half-ponytail, barely covering pointy ears. And he had a fang. An actual, real-life fang. It explained the lisp. Also his near-white foundation didn’t match the colour of his neck.

He was utterly beautiful.

“A pleasure to meet you,” he said with a purr, taking the stranger’s hand and giving it a kiss. “And I must say, you have incredible tastes, both in clothing and men.”

The stranger bit his lip, looking away adorably; “I can’t tell if you’re making fun of me or not.”

“No, of course not,” João traced circles over the back of his hand, “you’re beautiful. Please, sit with me for a while.”

The stranger burst into tears. So, he hadn’t sealed his makeup.

“What’s wrong?” cried João, wrapping his arms around the stranger, “please, I meant no offense.” People were staring, which made the stranger bury his face in his hands and look like he wished he was anywhere else. So João lead him away, out of the pool to a patch of woodland just outside where he could cry in peace.

And cry he did. João held the stranger as he sobbed onto his shoulder, ignoring the makeup now mixed in with his body hair. He rubbed the guy’s back, ignoring the noisy wailing right in his ear, whispering that it was okay.

He still didn’t know what he’d done wrong.

Eventually, the stranger stopped, pulled away, stared at João for a moment, then kissed him. 

It was probably the wettest, sloppiest kiss João had ever received, and he’d kissed most of the Iberian peninsula at this point. He wasn’t complaining, though. His fingers even found their way into the stranger’s hair.

When the guy pulled away, he bit his lip sheepishly, blushing and looking down at João lovingly.

“Alin,” he mumbled, “my name is Alin.”

João blinked.

“I… feel I should tell you my name, if I’m gonna be doing that,” he smiled and wiped his eyes; “sorry about... yeah. It’s been a rough month.”

“It’s fine, trust me,” João kissed him. He’d had five breakups this month alone; he understood. “Want to-”

“Go back to my room?” asked Alin with a hint of desperation, “I mean, I just want to forget for a while. What’s your name? Probably should ask that.”

“Erm, João Guilherme Pinto do Nascimento Pessoa. Please call me João, my dear.” Alin nodded. “Look, I really don’t mind if you want some, well, you know, amorous congress.”

“You don’t?” Alin looked at him incredulously. “Even though we just met?”

João shrugged. “You… seem like you have some things to work out.”

 

* * *

Apparently Alin had been in such dire need of de-stressing, that João had ended up having the best boning session of his life. He didn’t know how, but Alin left him crying in a puddle of sweat, speechless and formless with a good clump of his hair pulled out. Curled up next to him, Alin was crying again.

João held him tight. He looked so vulnerable when he wasn’t going down on him, and now João just wanted to protect him, and never let him go.

“I love you,” he whispered, kissing Alin’s forehead, “please marry me.”

Alin looked at him like he was mad. He was very familiar with the look, so familiar he might as well marry it.

“Too soon?” he asked, “I understand, it’s just I’m awfully enamoured, and - and I thought, since you apparently trust me enough to let me choke you, and, well, my mamá always said when you find a good thing, keep a hold of it and you are a good-”

“I have terminal cancer.”

 

* * *

“You got _married_?”

Alin looked up at his doctor with a sheepish smile, biting the inside of his mouth and sitting on his hands awkwardly. Dr Vynnychenko looked at him like he’d finally lost his mind, pacing her office as if that would make sense of the whole thing. Maybe a tumour _had_ lodged itself in his brain while he was on holiday. He didn’t know; he wasn’t a doctor.

“It’s not like I have long left,” he reasoned, “might as well make the most of it.”

Dr Vynnychenko thought for a moment, shrugged, offered him a sympathetic smile, and sat back down. 

He liked her office. Yes, none of his memories of the place itself were pleasant, but he had to admit the diagrams of the body on the wall, and her little bowl of decorated eggs had become weirdly comforting to him over the last few months. Familiar. He knew he was in good hands.

“And you… you two are happy together?”

Alin nodded.

“And he knows about…” she gestured vaguely, “you?”

“Yeah, that’s why he agreed to move in with me, until… until…” He looked at his knees. They were always stupidly pointy, like the rest of him - his brother said cuddles were a nightmare because of it - but lately, they seemed to just be bone. He had to wonder if his legs would actually get any thinner. When… when…

He looked at his hands, riddled with guilt. Dr Vynnychenko knew him well enough to pick up on it.

“Yes?” she asked, drawing out the question. He couldn’t look at her.

“I told him I had three years.” He had less than one. If he was lucky. 

“Why on earth-”

“I couldn’t- He was so happy about proposing and he promised he would love me until the very end. He said he was happy to come here and stay and look after me, I-” He hung his head. “I thought, because he was making such an effort to be there and he didn’t even know me, I could make an effort to stay alive a little longer.” He sniffed and wiped his eyes and nose on his sleeve. “I feel terrible for lying, but I couldn’t hurt him with the truth!”

He heard Dr Vynnychenko sigh.

“If- If I choose to have treatment,” he began, “would I-”

“You… might get two years out of it at this point, but that’s just a rough guess. We would have to see how the cancer actually responds to it.”

He wished he’d gotten treatment earlier. He wished he’d gone to the hospital earlier instead if hiding the symptoms for so long. He couldn’t help it, though; he’d been scared. If he didn’t get it checked out, he could keep ignoring the problems forever. He could pretend nothing was wrong, that he was just under the weather.

“I’ll take it,” he said, reaching over to clutch Dr Vynnychenko’s hands. “Whatever it takes, whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it just to spend more time with João. It’s what he deserves.”

“Well, the cancer has spread out of your liver, to several parts of your body, as we’ve discussed. You’re going to need some serious chemotherapy.”

“You mean like that teeny tube thing that you’re gonna insert into the artery in a place only meant to be treated nicely?” he asked, already feeling faint. There was a reason he'd declined treatment before: he was a complete and utter coward.

“No, that was only for making sure it wouldn’t spread beyond your liver whilst waiting for a transplant. You’re going to need a pretty hefty course and this will have more side effects.”

“Like losing my hair?”

Dr Vynnychenko nodded. “You’re also going to be very sick, I’m afraid. These won’t be a comfortable few years, though we’ll be doing everything we can to make your passing-” Alin winced. “Um, everything, as painless as possible.”

“And if not,” Alin tried to laugh, “well, I don’t mind a bit of pain. Or- or discomfort. Preferably in the bedroom, not a hospital.”

Dr Vynnychenko gave him a stony look.

“Mr Radacanu, we’ve talked about-”

“I know, I know,” he laughed a forced, uncomfortable laugh, “just let me have my joke, just this once. I’m scared, okay?”

 

* * *

Tsvetan was there to pick him up from the hospital, like he said he’d be, leaning against his blue piece of shit car and smoking a cigarette. Alin gave him a teary smile as his friend pulled him into a hug. He promptly started crying on his shoulder.

“Um, there, there?” Tsvetan awkwardly stroked his hair. Tsvetan feared emotions like turkeys feared Bernard Matthews, and no one was quite sure just how his and Alin’s friendship had survived all this time. And yet, it had, and Alin was grateful.

He smiled through his tears and the tickle of Tsvetan’s cigarette-infused hair. 

“Thanks, mate.” Tsvetan tried, and lately he’d been trying a lot harder, to show emotions like a person. And make Alin feel comfortable.

“Want to go get shitfaced?” Now, this was more like Tsvetan.

Alin, for the first time in his life, shook his head at that. “Nah, I think there’s been enough damage to my liver already.”

Tsvetan raised his eyebrow. Yeah, fair enough. “Since when did you care about your body? It doesn’t exactly care about you.” 

Nice, Tsvetan. 

Alin just shrugged. “Look, maybe I should… well, I need to start. I don’t want my man travelling all the way from Portugal then I just die on him after a few months.”

“So… because you’ve gone and gotten married, you’re gonna start trying to survive?” He huffed, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. “I guess it wasn’t quite the stupid decision we all thought it was, then.”

 

* * *

 

Alin was there to greet him at the airport.

João’s suitcase clipped at his heels as he ran and he buckled a few times, but he kept running, pulling his headphones out of his ears after 3 hours of duolingo Romanian, right into Alin’s arms. He enveloped him, holding him tightly in his arms and swaying him from side to side. It had been slow, cruel torture: being so far apart from him, not being able to reach out and touch Alin. He’d spent the past month longing to run his hands through the man’s hair, cup his face, taste his lips.

“Woah, go easy on me,” he laughed, “I need to go hospital tomorrow. Can’t have you destroying me before that.” His smile fell. “It’s my… my first chemo, actually. I’ll need all the strength I can get.”

He looked smaller, terrified. João held him close. “You can do this. Hey, I’ll be here to support you, and your family will too.”

Alin’s smile was back. He looked so sweet and genuine that João couldn’t help covering him in kisses. 

“Come on,” said Alin, laughing, “you have to meet my family!”

 

* * *

João had heard a lot about Alin’s family. He lived with his father, Iacob, and little brother, Andrei, in a house on the edge of Bucharest. João’s new home. A place he’s never been to, and yet he was going to live in. For the next three years. And then what? He supposed he’d have to go home, but who knew?

They were driven home from the airport by Alin’s best friend, a gruff, dour man called Tsvetan, who tended to look at João like he’d just walked into the guy’s house and peed on the carpet. João also suspected the man was imagining his face as he aggressively stamped out his cigarette butts on the pavement.

João couldn’t help feeling nervous about meeting the Radacanus, particularly after the frosty reception from Tsvetan. Did they all hate him? Was it because he was a man or the whole married-after-one-week thing? Would he now spend three years being treated like dirt, for the sake of being near his love? He would endure it all, for Alin.

As they pulled into the driveway, a teenage boy, in patchy booty shorts and a fur coat with mange, ran down the garden path, crashing into Alin as he got out of the car and hugging him tightly. 

“Al! Hey did you have a safe journey?”

“No, I died on the way home. I’m a ghost and I’m totally gonna haunt you for the rest of time. Anyway, this is my husband, João! Here he is in all his beauty!”

“Hey João!” Andrei jumped over the hood of the car to shake João’s hand just as he’d finished pulling himself out of Tsvetan’s tiny car. He was amazed that thing had made it out of the airport carpark, let alone all the way here. “I’m Andrei! I’ve heard so much about you, because Alin literally never shuts the fuck up about how much he loves you!” Well, colour João flattered. And more enamoured than he already was.

“Can you blame me!” Alin pulled João into a hug. “Look at him! Look at his face and hair and smile and mole and everything! And he has interests and opinions and hobbies!” He kissed his cheek, clasping his chin in a hand. “God I’m so happy to finally live with you. My husband. Love of my life.” He covered his face in kisses, and João laughed.

“Hey, come on, try not to kiss me to death before I can meet your dad.”

“Not possible. He’s just there. See?” Alin, hand still on his chin, spun João around so he was able to see the strangest middle-aged man of all time. Alin had been very sparing with the details on his father, and João was starting to see why.

He had long, wispy hair, much like his sons, that came down to his shoulders, a kind smile and - for some unknown reason - a fedora decorated with a stuffed bird. A real bird too, by the looks of things, and not particularly well-preserved. It looked like an amateur had stuffed it, and stuck googly eyes on it too. He was also wearing an entire snake. Not a snakeskin belt, just an entire snake. There was also an entire fox corpse dangling from his shoulders like a scarf.

“Mr Pessoa,” Iacob clasped his hands in his, smiling warmly, “good to meet you at last, my boy. May I call you João?”

“You may, sir,” João pulled his new father-in-law into a hug. He smelt of musty cat and formaldehyde, and João couldn’t help being nervous at that.

“You are just as how Alin described,” said Iacob.

“In explicit detail,” added Andrei, sounding exactly like Toni.

João smiled at that. “Oh, I am nothing to boast about. Alin here is an extraordinary young man.”

“All I did was get really sick,” Alin shrugged, and Tsvetan awkwardly wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and it may have been João’s imagination, but he swore the man pushed him away. He decided to ignore it.

Alin shrugged Tsvetan off and took João’s hand. “Come on, I’ll show you to our room!”

He lead him up uneven steps, and João traced his fingers over the ivy climbing up trellis and faded, white walls, patting a gargoyle on the head. It was a beautiful old house, and he was giddy at the thought of living here for the next few years, writing poetry amongst books and characterful furniture, looking out at the garden and his beloved muse.

When Alin opened the front door, his gaze of wonder turned to one of horror. The entire front hall was filled with taxidermied animals, from teeny tiny mice, to a whole bear. They were all decorated for Halloween, too. Tackily. There were witches hats, otters dressed as pirates, white sheets draping from what could’ve been deer heads, and the mice had extra limbs sewn on to look like spiders.

The bear had spider nipple clamps too. Six.

João could not believe his fucking eyes. For a second, he wondered if this was some elaborate, but cruel prank show and he’d end up crying to Toni with a broken heart. 

Then he saw Alin looking at him nervously, and realised this was all horrendously true, and this is where he’d be living from now on if he didn’t do a runner.

“I know it’s a little, well, eccentric, but it’s dad’s hobby and it makes him happy. And we all like Halloween.”

But, looking at Alin, he knew he couldn’t do it; he would live in the worst house in the world, to make him happy. He took Alin’s hand.

“My love, I think you and your family are wonderful people, and your eccentricities make you far more enjoyable to be around. Who wants to live with boring people?” He tried not to make eye-contact with any dead animals as he said that. It was impossible.

“You haven’t even seen the wine cellar-come-family crypt yet,” said Andrei, walking past with a grimace. A crypt? There were coffins full of relatives in the cellar? He wasn't even horrified at that; Alin's goal in life was to become peak goth.

“You love it down there,” hissed Alin.

“I love the wine! Not mum and her - ugh - lingerie.”

“ _ Your mum was buried in her lingerie _ ?” João shook himself. “Apologies, I meant to say sorry for your loss.”

“Oh no,” said Alin, “no one in the crypt is buried. Radacanus get taxidermied when they die. Any pose they want, any outfit. I’m gonna be in my boxers playing undertale.” 

João couldn’t believe his ears. As much as he wanted wine, he was never going in that cellar ever. Also he was terrified. Just how many formaldehyde-covered bodies were in this house?

“That was his second choice,” muttered Andrei, which Alin followed up with _gestures_. "Also, never go down there at the same time as dad. He really misses mum."

“That’s… well, it’s weird, but in a wonderful goth kinda of way. You deserve a castle to paint and write poetry in.” João rubbed the top of his arm.

“Every removal company in Bucharest have Radacanus blacklisted,” said Iacob. “Ever since my grandad moved here, with granny and her burlesque pose.” João didn’t blame them one bit.

“Pity, you deserve a castle.”

“Not to mention I’d die before the mortgage had to get paid. Literally the only good thing about death.”

Alin kissed his cheek, and when João glanced behind them, he noticed Tsvetan glaring at them with utter poison, just for a second, before glancing away.

 

* * *

That night, as João held Alin in his arms, and the skunk on the bedside table gazed at him through the gloom, he obsessed over that glare, holding the memory in his mind like a pebble, turning it over and over to examine every little detail.

“Babe?” Alin mumbled, lashes brushing against his neck.

“Hmm?”

“What’s wrong? Your aura seems sad.”

“I’m just thinking. Tsvetan… he doesn’t like me?”

“No, he doesn’t seem to. He tells me everything, but that’s one mystery he refuses to talk about.”

“Is it because I am a man?”

“No, no, Tsvetan is gayer than myself, somehow. He would never hate another LGBT person. Unless they were a dick.”

“I have not been a dick,” said João, “at least, I doubt it. Maybe he thinks it is too soon, too. Whatever it is, I will prove myself to him.” Though Alin soon fell asleep in his arms, João thought about Tsvetan until the early hours of the morning, wondering just what he’d done to upset him.

 

* * *

A few months in, João finally found out why.

“It’s lovely,” Alin told him, posing in the mirror as he modelled his new wig. “Exactly what I’d have picked!” It was black, and flopped over one side of his face. João had seen Alin with similar hairstyles in photos from when he was an awkward, lanky teen. He’d been so cute, with his braces and more piercings sticking out of his face than a voodoo doll. He’d also had a voodoo doll in one picture, hanging from a tatty bit of string round his neck with the word ‘haterz’ written on it in red paint.

João had fallen even more in love at that.

Alin bounced up and down in front of the mirror, gave a twirl, and skipped over to hug João. “You’re the best,” he chirped, kissing him on the nose. 

From the corner of the room, Tsvetan scowled at them, arms folded as he leaned against the wall.

“Hey!” Alin was already laughing, in that way he did when he was about to tell a terrible, terrible joke. “It’s a ch _emo_ wig! Geddit?”

João laughed with him. He didn’t always get Alin’s humour, and at times it weirded him out, but he knew it was the only thing that kept the guy going at times so he played along.

Tsvetan stormed out of the room.

“Tsvet-”

“I’ll talk to him,” said João with a reassuring smile, “you sit down and relax.” Alin nodded shakily and sank into an armchair. João gave his shoulder a squeeze and left to find Tsvetan.

He found him in the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of rakia and sitting at the table to glare at it. When he heard João enter, he didn’t look up and downed the whole thing in one go.

João stood in the corner awkwardly. “Senhor Borisov? Tsvetan?” Tsvetan’s eyes shot up, and he stared João down with the most poisonous glare. “Are you okay?” he tried, “what’s wrong?”

Tsvetan seemed to contemplate answering, and eventually gave in, after a moment or so at war with himself. “Why are you pretending you love him?”

João blinked. “Because I do?”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m no-”

“No, you cannot possibly love him!” He’d never seen Tsvetan cry before; João hadn’t known the man could, not in front of others, at least. He was on his feet now, glass in his fist as he debated throwing it at him.

“But I do!” João insisted, “I love him so much! I love him so much I’d sell my soul to keep him alive! I’d become Orpheus for him!” He tried to take his hand.

“No, no you don’t,” Tsvetan looked at him in disgust and backed away. “You don’t know him! You never saw him grow up, never helped him through life as he became a man, you weren’t even there when he was diagnosed! You have done nothing for him!”

“And you did,” said João softly.

Tsvetan didn’t look at him, wiping his face. “Where were you when he started planning his own fucking funeral?”

João understood. He stepped forward, holding out his arms to hold then man because God he understood. Tsvetan pushed him away.

“You’re in love with Alin.”

Tsvetan said nothing, jaw clenched.

“I’m so sorry, my dear. It can’t be easy-”

“It should have been me!” Tears streamed down Tsvetan’s face as he appeared torn between screaming at João and running away from any talk of his feelings.

“I was there for him! I was the one who loved him all these years, protected him, wiped his tears! Who are you to take him from me? Who are you to waltz in and pretend to love him whilst he dies?”

“I do love him!” he was shouting now, in a voice he’d long forgotten he possessed; “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t!”

Tsvetan glared at him.

“You don’t know me! And you have no right to talk like you do!” João continued, “when I love, I give my entire being, and I give my entire being to Alin, because I love him more than myself. And yes, I wasn’t here before, but I’m here now and I’m here to stay.”

His gaze softened.

“I know the heartbreak of unrequited love, and know it well. It is a torture so evil nothing humanity could invent comes close. To watch the person you love with another is to have your heart torn out of your chest every hour.” He remembered - painfully - that time he’d waited a month to propose to someone and they’d just freaked out and told him they weren’t even dating. 

Tsvetan shook his head. João pulled him into a hug, and this time he faced no resistance.

“Alin is the only one who matters right now,” he continued, “please, we don’t have long with him. Don’t destroy our happiness. You’ll have forever to hate me… after…”

Tsvetan didn't speak for a long moment. “I’m not going to come between you,” he promised, “I might even learn not to hate you, but please, _please_ , look after him.”

“I will love him enough for both of us,” João promised in return.

 

* * *

For the first year of their marriage, João could pretend everything was fine. He took Alin to hospital, supported him through his treatment, and he could almost forget Alin was dying, with a lot of denial and pretending. He was sick, and João couldn’t hide that, but he could almost kid himself that it was not terminal, that he was getting his treatment and would be on the mend soon.

But that was not the case, and by the second year, he was starting to panic, pleading with death to spare Alin. 

If dying was scaring Alin in any way, he was keeping it to himself. He just went about his business, though he was too frail to leave the house for long, or even walk around for more than five minutes at a time.

That didn’t stop him from living life the best he could.

His wig tickled João’s nose as they danced together, João holding him close and supporting him as he danced weakly. Alin sang along softly, tripping over his words and lisping.

_ “I just want to be there _

_ When the morning light explodes _

_ On your face it radiates _

_ I can't escape _

_ I love you 'till the end…” _

João joined in, stroking his neck, watching lamplight dance through black hair.

_ “I just want to tell you nothing _

_ You don't want to hear _

_ All I want is for you to say _

_ Why don't you just take me _

_ Where I've never been before _

_ I know you want to hear me _

_ Catch my breath _

_ I love you 'till the end…” _

“I need to sit down,” Alin mumbled apologetically, untangling himself from João and collapsing on the sofa next to Andrei. Iacob was in the armchair in the corner, working on a dog he’d found on the street earlier that day.

Andrei snuggled up to his brother and stroked the back of his hand. Alin, apparently tired of scratching his head, took off his wig and flung it across the room.

“Wig flew!” he cried.

“Yeet!” said Andrei.

Iacob stared at his sons in bewilderment. João smiled at them all, stood in the corner listening to the music.

_ “I just want to see you laugh not cry _

_ I just want to feel you _

_ When the night puts on its cloak _

_ I'm lost for words don't tell me _

_ Cause all I can say _

_ I love you 'till the end…” _

_ Alin was going to die. _

And there was nothing João could do about it.

Yes, he’d known all along, and Alin never shied away from the topic, but it had never been real before. It was like a glass wall had stood between João and the truth, one that life had just taken a sledgehammer to.

He couldn’t hide the tears.

“Dear?” Alin asked, once he’d noticed. “What’s wrong?”

João froze. He didn’t know what to say, not here in front of his family. They were staring at him now. He couldn’t breathe. He had to go.

“I’m sorry,” he croaked, before bolting for the door.

He stumbled into his and Alin’s room, almost knocking over the lynx in the corner before flopping onto the bed. He was being selfish. Alin was the one who had reason to cry, not him. Now guilt was joining the mess of emotions in his head as he pulled out his phone. _Toni_. He needed to speak to Toni.

“Hello? João?”

“Hey Toni,” he sobbed, barely audible, “just… just wanna say ‘hi’.”

“What’s wrong?”

Even if he’d been trying to stay composed, João could never lie to his twin. “Alin’s dying.”

“Yeah? I thought you already knew that?”

“Shush, Toni,” despite his attempts, he couldn’t help bursting into tears. João had always considered himself a beautiful crier, everything involving romance an art for him, down to heartbreak. The noises he made here, though, were ugly, and his face grew hot and blotchy. “I- It hadn’t… I can’t watch him die! I love him! Please, Toni, I can’t say goodbye to him yet!”

There was a pause. “I’m so, so sorry. I… I can’t imagine how you must be feeling right now.”

“I told myself I knew what I was getting into,” João whimpered, “but, Toni, I’ve never felt this way about someone before.”

“No one agreed to marry you before.” Toni, quite helpfully, didn’t point out that João had said that about everyone he’d fallen for. This time, it seemed quite genuine. No, not genuine. Toni meant believable. He’d often questioned João’s feelings before, because there was no way someone could genuinely fall in love as often as he claimed to, but he loved Alin. He loved that man with everything he had.

“Exactly! God can’t present me with true love and take him away like this. Unless I’m a bad person. I’m not a bad person, am I?”

“No, João, of course not. These things just… happen, y’know? We just have to make the best of life, because we’re all dying. Your husband just happens to be the Usain Bolt of dying.”

He gave a wail. “Antonio!”

“Apologies. Look, this isn’t your fault, or his fault, and I know there’s nothing I can say to make you feel better, but I have to tell you: don’t waste your time crying to me. Spend your time with Alin, make the most of what you have left. You’ll have plenty of time to cry on my shoulder later.”

João nodded. “You’re right, Toni my dear.”

“Take care, João. Give Alin my love.”

“I will, see ya.” He hung up, and heard the shuffling of footsteps behind him, and found Alin hobbling into the room. He settled down on the bed, glancing over with teary eyes.

“Hey, love,” João sat next to him, stroking his cheek with the back of his hand. Alin rubbed his hand like a cat.

“João?” He asked miserably, “do you regret being with me?”

João pulled him into a tight hug. “Never. I seldom regret, but if I had to pick something, I would never regret marrying you. I just wish there was something I could do, either magic it away or take your place.”

“That’s sweet of you, but at this point, I just want the pain to go away. I’m looking forward to a rest.”

“You still got a whole year and a half to go, though. We just gotta make the most of it, and maybe I’ll be able to say goodbye when the time comes.”

Alin winced. “I… may not have been honest about that.”

“What do you mean? You don’t have less time, do you?”

It was with a pained expression that Alin nodded. “I shouldn’t be alive _now_. Truth is, I’d kinda just accepted everything and there didn’t seem much point in hanging about. Death sounded a lot more fun than living in pain.”

“Oh, oh love,” João held him close, kissing his cheek tenderly.

“Before you came over, I talked to my doctor about treatment. It’s bought me til December, if I’m lucky. At least I’ll get to see Halloween. Never liked Christmas much.”

“How come?” João was shaking. He didn’t want to lose Alin. He’d give his own life for this to not be true.

“Dad always puts out these rats dressed as elves,” he was laughing through his tears and João joined him. They settled into silence for a long moment. “Sorry for lying to you. I’m not a smart man.”

João shrugged. He wasn’t happy at all, but he could be heartbroken in his own time, maybe write a poem or ten. He just hugged Alin tight, rubbing his back. “It’s okay. I get it. You were scared. It just means every moment with you is that bit more precious.”

 

* * *

João was going to say up the whole night. He wasn’t going to leave until Alin had, and from what the doctors had told him, he wouldn’t live to see dawn.

Alin’s little room was dirty and depressing. The only furniture was a hospital bed and a scattering of little plastic chairs with uneven legs. A plastic bag of food wrappers and empty coffee cups hung off the back of the chair, and João wrapped his jacket tighter around him to keep out the cold. Outside the window, the wind howled, sending snow flying into the side of the building like it was trying to break in.

Iacob had gone to get coffee for everyone, and Andrei was sat sullenly in the corner, head drooping. Tsvetan was pacing back and forth, the only movement inside the room.

Alin’s heart monitor beeped, a little too slowly for João’s liking, and tubes and wires snaked in and out of his body. His elbows were bruised from where a nurse had tried to insert a cannula, but the veins had proved tricky to find, a final discomfort to add to his miserable final day. He was pale and still, not a drop of colour to his emaciated face, skin as transparent as the tube in his nose. Iacob had draped his fur coat over him to act as an extra blanket, to keep the shivering at bay. The doctors had attacked the cancer with everything they’d had for years now, but it was hopeless.

Alin was going to die.

Even when he’d been awake, Alin was too weak to talk, too in-pain, too near death. There were more drugs in his body now than there had been when he was at uni, but João could still see the pained crease between his brows.

João clutched his hand, shaking and gazing at his beautiful face, grey and sunken and broken, but still Alin. His Alin. He would always be his Alin; death couldn’t destroy his love.

The night dragged on. Alin didn’t wake up.

 

* * *

João awoke with a jolt. Morning light smacked him in the face as he blearily blinked and wiped drool from his mouth. The snow seemed to have stopped falling, and the world outside was painfully bright. It took a few seconds to remember where he was, but when he saw Alin, his heart sank.

He’d fallen asleep, and now Alin was dead.

“Oh God, oh God I’m so sorry,” he jumped up and stroked Alin’s hair, “love, I’m… I’m so sorry.” He kissed his forehead, leaving patches of wet. He felt his face distort and contract as his heart was ripped from him. “I love you.”

Andrei jumped awake too, shaking his father’s and Tsvetan’s shoulders and glancing at Alin with a whine. 

Okay, João wasn’t the only one to fall asleep, then, but if anything, that was worse. He collapsed into his chair, shoulders shaking. He couldn’t believe himself; one night. All he had to do was not fall asleep for one night, the one night Alin needed him most of all. What if he’d woken up in the night? Opened his eyes one last time, only to find his family fast asleep.

He was never going to forgive himself for this.

“Zwo-”

João glanced up. A pair of copper-coloured eyes stared back, the only thing standing out against grey sheets and skin.

“Alin?” he whispered huskily. 

“João?” He was smiling weakly, breaking into a lopsided grin when João squeezed his hand.

“Guess we've got you for another day or so,” said Andrei, smiling through his tears. He leaned in and kissed his brother's forehead.

“We’ll be here for you til the end,” João promised, “even if we don’t get to sleep in a week.”

That seemed to be a lie, since Alin managed to hold on to life for the whole week, against all odds. By the third day, he was even managing to sit up and look about the room. João, Tsvetan and the Radacanus stayed with him as often as they could, just in case his luck ran out.

But it didn’t.

Alin's body was refusing to go quietly.

* * *

 

 

João sat with him, stroking his head and reading poetry from a worn, old book, two weeks after he was supposed to die. He’d made it to Christmas, and seemed determined to see the new year too. João believed in him, and was happy for every extra day they were given together.

Doctor Vynnychenko came in to check everything, and give him the results of some tests they ran. João wasn’t paying attention too closely, until he heard Alin swear in disbelief.

“You can’t be serious.”

João looked up to find Dr Vynnychenko smiling. 

“You could call it a Christmas miracle, if you like, but the treatment seems to have done more than slowed the process. The cancer is dying; I don’t want to make any promises, but it could end up going completely, with time. I don't know if it'll come back down the line, there's always a risk, but for now, there's hope.”

João couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Alin might be okay? He wasn’t going to lose him?

Alin promptly burst into tears.

“Alinho!” João held him close, “I thought this would be good news!”

“It is!” he sobbed, wiping his eyes on his husband’s shirt. “I just- I just- I never thought- I’ve been waiting all this time for it to end and-” 

João rubbed his back, sharing a smile with Dr Vynnychenko; he couldn’t wait to tell the others when they arrived. “I guess,” he mumble into Alin’s shoulders, “til death do us part will have to wait.”


End file.
